I have been getting so many yard and garden projects completed so far this summer that it's almost become an obsession. I think passion is a better word. Being outdoors, working in the yard is such a sublime and precious way to pass the time. After so much lethargy and in the midst of so many fires, I want the yard to feel how much I love it, to know how much joy and simple pleasure it gives me everyday.
Laughter may be the best medicine for some--and I do include healthy doses of tomfoolery into every day that passes--but for me, nature is the key, even nature close to the city limits. I don't have to be in the middle of the forest, miles away from any structure to get my fix--though I do imbibe in that prescription whenever I'm able--I can receive miraculous healings from one square foot of land if need be.
Everyone should have a natural place they go to reconnect with their own rhythm. It can be the ocean or a potted plant on a balcony off the 100th floor; anywhere will work. Nature gives you not only solace but perspective: Yes you are unique and no you're not terribly important. Take comfort in that knowledge. The weight is lifted, momentarily.
I may find myself on my home equipment or in a gym during the long winter to come, but for now hauling rocks, hoeing beds, repotting plants, pulling weeds, building a fountain and waterfall from something between "scratch" and "nothing", excavating pavers, installing yard hardscapes, protecting everything from the deer, and watering nearly all of it are the components of my workout. And for every achy muscle, for two black dirt-stained feet, for dusty mustaches and streams of sweat, I lose a worry or an aggravation. In every paint-splattered tee-shirt, I somehow find my soul.
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